Corak was trying his best not to show his fury, but it didn't seem to work well enough. She worried what their 'guests' might think.

Three bipeds beamed and materialised on the pad: a Vorta nad two Jem'Hadar.
“Welcome to CUW Roumar,” Jarol said.

“You have facial hair,” the Vorta looked at Corak. “And you're a girl.”

Jarol looked back at Brenok. “I know that,” and at the Vorta, “I knew that.”

The Vorta laughed, then looked at Brenok. “And you have long hair.”

“And I don't have a lobe,” he replied.

“We're quite a team,” Jarol said.

“Oh, yes you are. It's going to be my pleasure to cooperate with this unique crew. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Allaran, this is First Toman'talak and Second Arat'kara.”

Corak still didn't say anything, so Jarol spoke again: “We will take you to your quarters.”

“I trust they were prepared according to our instructions?” Allara asked.

“Indeed they were,” Jarol confirmed. “Please follow Glinn Brenok.”

Brenok and Dominion representatives left the room and Jarol stayed there with Corak.

“Forgive me saying this, sir, but it is not wise to openly show your hostility,” she said quietly, so that the transporter crewman couldn't hear her. Corak just looked at her, then went out without a word.

She knew he was furious. And she didn't blame him. She didn't like that Dominion business at all, but for now they had to follow orders. She had no doubts how the Dominion dealt with its unhappy members. What she didn't understand was why those three were sent to their ship? What was so special about them? Was it a special mission? Allaran didn't mention bringing new orders.

She returned to the bridge to check reports; maybe she missed something, maybe it was clear what the devious little Vorta wanted from them and she just neglected her duty to stay fully informed of everything.

The bridge seemed the same as usual. Busy officers, bipping consoles, someone bringing or taking padds. However there was something in the air, something she could clearly detect, almost smell, hanging like a cloud over their heads.

She glanced at the Gul's office door to see if he was inside. He was, so she sat in his chair. She tried to find comfortable position for her elbows, so that the little wings at ends of the armour sleeves wouldn't bother her, when she heard the door at the back of the bridge open. She turned to see who it was and saw Allaran entering, followed by her Jem'Hadar.

“Where's Corak?” the Vorta asked in her sweet voice. Jarol hated sweets, they made her sick.

“Busy in his office,” she barked her reply. “Is there a reason for you to be here? This is the bridge, it's a critical place and no civilians should be h...”

“I just came to inform you of something,” the Vorta cut her off. The Glinn didn't appreciate being cut off. “One of the Jem'Hadar will always be present here, on the bridge, as an observer. Twelve hours one, thirteen hours the other one.”

“Why?”

“Because we are here to observe,” Allaran smiled, spreading her hands in mock of politeness. Jarol wanted to tear her long, wrinkled ears off and then break her neck.

“What do you expect to see?”

“Only the best performance from the best crew.”

Yeah, right... Jarol didn't buy it. Jarol wouldn't believe her even if she said Nokar was a desert continent. However now she was sure they came to look for something. Whatever it was she knew it couldn't be good.